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Wait – my story? You mean someone actually wants to know?

Er, alright, then. Ron Weasley – born in the Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England. I haven’t any idea why they called the midwitch in to help my dad and mum, Arthur and Molly Weasley, deliver me. You’d think after having five boys before me, Mum would have been able to birth me in her sleep.

Growing up, it was easy to tell me from my five older brothers Bill, Charlie, Percy, and Fred and George, the twins. Even if it was only at attention-getting like the twins, they were each brilliant at something– and I was...not. Then my little sister Ginny came along, beating me at birth with something where I never even stood a chance: she was brilliant at being a girl.

Early on I learned that those in my family were often called two things: poor, and “blood traitors”. Little did I know that I would grow to be proud of the second label, and I gave and got many black eyes and bloody noses to prove it.

When I was seven, my granddad, Septimus Weasley, showed me I might be good at one thing: wizard chess. We’d always use his prized wizard chess set to play. I still miss him being around to talk to. “Ronnie,” he’d say, “you know what I’m going to do before I do it, don’t you? You can figure out pretty fast what you can do to get the advantage and what I might try next. And you’re not afraid to make a sacrifice to win big. You’re a strategist, Ronnie - a strategist.”

Never mind that I couldn’t say the word. But I was proud to be a strategist – until I figured out it was damned useless in everyday life. Why couldn’t I just be a kickarse Quidditch player like Charlie? Now that was something useful.

I got my Hogwarts letter and thankfully got sorted into Gryffindor. I met my best mates Harry and Hermione there. Oddly, there are some Muggle books that describe all that happened during those school years, so I won’t go into that too much. But let’s just say that by seventh year, the world –and the future- were looking pretty bleak.

By the time we got back from the Horcrux hunt, the world had been changed for the better alright. But even at the great price we paid for peace, it was never complete. Families were broken, loved ones injured and gone, the whole wizarding world was lost and confused. To tell you the truth, I reckon we were all numb. We were each – in our own way - trying to return life to normal – or what we remembered as normal.

Evil doesn’t stay gone for long.



Hey, Granddad, wherever you are, maybe it’s about time I put that strategy stuff to work, eh?

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